


Eight Snowflake Ties

by thepopeisdope



Series: 12 Days of Christmas [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (kind of?), Bottom Dean, Christmas Party, Dom/sub Undertones, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5490509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepopeisdope/pseuds/thepopeisdope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Smith meets his new boss at the company Christmas party, and the immediate inclination to fuck said boss probably shouldn't be a part of his first impression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Snowflake Ties

**Author's Note:**

> I think this might be some of the smuttiest smut I've ever written. Should I apologize? I'm not sure.
> 
> Beta'd by [Arianna](http://ariwillowtwist.tumblr.com/), the greatest beta to ever beta.

Of all the things that Dean hates, work parties are pretty high up the list. He had asked one of the gals from HR about it once, wondering why they had to have the parties at all, but she seemed to have been offended that he even asked, and went on to spout some bullshit about ‘boosting moral’ and ‘promoting interpersonal relationships’ and a whole lot of other nonsense that he hadn’t bothered to remember.

Basically, he learned that the parties weren’t going anywhere, but that his attendance was ‘strongly encouraged’.

Which is why he’s here now, in some ballroom of a fancy hotel downtown the day before Christmas Eve, dressed in his best suit and an appropriately festive tie. It’s classy, dark red and covered with small white snowflakes. He thinks it was a gift from Jo, not long after he was first hired at Sandover. He clings to the thought of his sister now, desperately wishing he had her company to make this party even a bit more interesting. He’s seeing her for New Year’s, but that doesn’t feel soon enough.

He takes another heavy swallow of his spiked eggnog, and silently wills the time to pass a little faster.

“Dean!” a voice calls out from somewhere off to his right. “Dean, my boy, come here! There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Dean takes a moment to steel himself and sends a quick prayer to whatever forces may be listening before he turns to find Zachariah Adler amidst a crowd of his other coworkers. It isn’t difficult to do, given Adler’s fat, balding head shining like a beacon, so he makes his way over to him as instructed. His boss is talking to someone else, but his body shields the person from Dean’s view.

“Mr. Adler?” Dean says when he reaches the man, announcing his presence in the simplest way possible. Adler tends to like Dean—at least, as much as the man is capable of feeling when dealing with such a positive emotion—but that doesn’t mean the reverse is also true. Dean tends to try to keep their interactions as to-the-point as possible, to more swiftly escape the often unsettling feeling of Adler’s eyes on him.

Adler breaks off his conversation with the other employee and turns to Dean with a grin so wide it _screams_ falsities, before clapping a hand to the back of Dean’s shoulders, nearly jostling him into spilling his half-empty glass of eggnog. “I want you to meet the newest member of our team, Castiel Novak. He just transferred in from California, and he’ll be overseeing our firm for some time. Mr. Novak here is next in line for the position of CEO.”

Ah. So that’s what’s got Adler’s britches in a twist. Upper management decided to bring someone in to _oversee_ Adler’s division, and to top it all off, the dude’s basically got the position that Adler wants for himself.

Great. Probably means that this _Novak_ guy is just as obnoxious as Adler himself. Must be, to have gotten so high up in the company. Probably a complete dinosaur, too.

Dean can only see part of the guy’s shoulder from where he stands, Novak being turned away and talking to a member of the wait staff as he is. The waiter nods at whatever Novak said to him and walks off, which in turn prompts Novak to turn and join the conversation with him and Adler.

First off? _Not_ what Dean expected.

Castiel Novak is fucking _hot_. He looks to be in about his early or mid-thirties, only a few years older than Dean himself and a far cry younger than Adler or any of the other big-wigs at Sandover. He’s clearly run his fingers through his dark brown hair a few too many times, causing it to stand on end like it probably would after a good fuck. His perfectly-fitted black suit accentuates his slim, athletic build in a way that makes Dean’s mouth water. The list doesn’t end there, though: his eyes are big and blue (a perfect match to the tie around his neck, the strip of silk decorated with snowflakes almost identical to the ones on Dean’s own tie), his lips are pink and soft-looking, and the stubble lining his jaw looks like it would feel _real_ nice scratching against Dean’s inner thighs.

Dean’s dick twitches in his pants at that final thought, which _definitely_ catches him off guard. In his defense, he’s already got the beginnings of a buzz going from the glass and a half of eggnog he’s downed. So maybe he’s quicker to get turned on than usual. Sue him.

He really hopes none of this shows on his face, though, because the immediate inclination to fuck his new boss probably shouldn’t be a part of his first impression on said boss. He clears his throat and holds his hand out in greeting, as is expected of him. “Dean Smith, director of Sales and Marketing.”

Novak takes a half-step forward to shake his hand, his fingers warm and seeming surprisingly strong for the few seconds that they’re wrapped around Dean’s. “Pleasure to meet you, Dean. I look forward to working with you in the near future.”

“And the same to you, Mr. Novak,” Dean replies cordially, resolutely ignoring just how deep and sinful that voice sounds. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Adler nod in approval.

Novak steps back into his own space and folds his hands behind his back, smiling slightly at Dean. “Please, call me Castiel. We’re at a party, after all. Aren’t we, Zachariah?” He ends the question with a sharp look at Adler.

Dean has to bite his bottom lip to hold back his grin. Seeing Adler get put in his place is a beautiful sight.

Adler tenses, and forces a smile even less believable than the last. “Of course, Castiel,” he grits out. He then makes a show of craning his neck and staring out into the rest of the party. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, there’s another matter that requires my attention. If we don’t cross paths again before the end of the party, know that I look forward to seeing you both back in the office after our Christmas break.”

It’s such an obvious lie that Dean can’t help but roll his eyes—once Adler has disappeared into the crowd, that is. He remembers a moment too late that Novak—Castiel—is still standing with him, but a quick glance reveals that he’s scowling after Adler as well, so Dean figures he’s in the clear.

Eventually Castiel turns to Dean, an eyebrow raised and still looking slightly miffed. “Is he always like that?”

The question makes Dean chuckle. “Adler? Not always.” When Castiel’s second eyebrow joins the first in his hairline, Dean adds with a wry smile, “You’ve caught him on a good day.”

Castiel laughs when he catches Dean’s meaning, and casts another dark look in the direction Adler vanished in. “Can’t say I’m excited to work with him, then.”

Dean full heartedly agrees, but before he can voice this, the waiter Castiel had previously been speaking with reappears and hands the man a glass filled almost to the brim with whiskey. The waiter departs again almost instantly, leaving Castiel to drain nearly a third of the glass in one swig.

Now it’s Dean’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Holiday parties not your scene, Castiel?” he asks, only partially teasing. The idea of Castiel being a kindred spirit to Dean’s anti-party attitude is more exciting than he would like to admit.

Cas shakes his head, looking exasperated. “No, and yet I have to be here. Apparently it would have been considered ‘rude’ if I had not attended.”

Dean smiles in understanding and drains the last of his eggnog. There’s a decent amount of alcohol in the mix, but not nearly enough. “Yeah, I got that, too,” he says, allowing himself to be drawn in a bit closer to the magnetic pull that he swears Cas is exuding. He’s like sex incarnate, and Dean can’t help but want to be closer to him.

Thankfully, Castiel doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he takes a subtle step closer to Dean himself, although he keeps a straight face and doesn’t outwardly acknowledge their proximity.

Dean watches him for a long moment, then blurts before he can think better of it, “How’d you get to be ‘almost CEO’? No offense, pal, but you don’t really seem like the type.”

"I'm not," Cas replies easily, taking a more moderate sip of his whiskey than he had previously. "But with a company as old as Sandover, a few somewhat outdated practices are still in place, and so I get the position by nature of inheritance. My father died when I was young, but my uncle is the current CEO, and due to a lack of any children of his own, I'm the top candidate."

"Wow," Dean breathes out in return, impressed by how easy it all sounds. "Must be nice."

Cas hums absently in response. "Yes, I suppose."

Somewhere in the room, someone calls out for the start of a gift exchange. Dean winces at the announcement, figuring it to be yet another thing he'll be forced to participate in. Which means he'll probably have to leave Cas. 

The thought puts a foul taste in his mouth. Odd though it may be, he already finds himself reluctant to leave the man's side. It just feels... wrong. 

Before he has the chance to work out a way to walk away from Castiel, the man downs the rest of his whiskey and whirls on his heel to face Dean directly. There's a determined set to his shoulders, and a matching glint in his eyes that easily draws Dean in, entrances him. Dean's so focused on all of this that he almost misses Cas' question altogether. 

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Dean swears his heart skips a beat. "W-what?"

Cas looks abruptly less confident. "If you want to, that is. The hotel also has a bar, or I... have a room upstairs. If you're amenable to either. I myself am leaving, so I thought I should extend the invitation to you as well. You seem like a wonderful man, and you’re incredibly handsome to boot. I would be lucky to have you, in any capacity. It is an effort I would like to make.”

Dean's still stuck on the fact that Cas wants him to leave with him at all, whether that be to get drinks, fuck, or whatever. Cas is so far out of his league it isn't even funny. And also—"Wait, aren't you technically my boss?"

Cas shrugs, though his mouth is lifted in a wry smile. "Technically. But what can anyone do about it? Fire me? It's practically my company. Fire you? Again, it's my company—I won't allow it. Besides, it's not like any relations we may have will be business related, so there is no cause for it to ever be a problem. If you are amenable, of course."

That word 'ever' really sticks out in Dean's mind. 'Ever' implies repetition. Permanency, even.

Dean feels breathless when he replies, "Let's get out of here, then."

Cas grins, the expression purer and more joyful than any Dean has seen him wear so far. "Let's."

~

It really shouldn't be surprising that they immediately end up in Cas' room (that he is apparently temporarily living out of, by the way, new to the city as he is). And yet here Dean is, just a little bit tipsy and being kissed within an inch of his life against the inside of the penthouse suite. 

Another thing that shouldn't be surprising is that Cas is literally a sex god, just as his appearance implied.

Apparently Dean's a bit slow on the uptake today, because that's two incredibly obvious revelations that he really should have seen coming. 

Cas works a knee between Dean's thighs and rolls it up into his balls, effectively cutting off any and all reflection on the 'obvious'. 

Dean moans and clutches uselessly at Cas' shoulders, simultaneously grinding down against the man's leg as much as he can, given the their positions. 

Cas chuckles at his efforts, and whispers into his ear, "Be patient, Dean. I'll get you there."

Dean is not ashamed to admit that he whimpers at that. It only adds more fuel to the fire burning inside of him, and he pleads in return, "Cas, please. I know you have a bed in here somewhere."

Cas chuckles again, and grinds his hips forward against Dean's in a slow, tormenting circle. He taps his hands against the backs of Dean's thighs, so Dean jumps a little bit to wrap them both around Cas' waist. It's a ridiculous show of strength, considering Dean's not exactly light, especially in the winter months when he's off his typical diets and cleanses. The slight ring of pudge around his stomach proves that much. 

Dean is now completely at Cas' mercy, and Cas takes full advantage of this. He continues to move his hips against Dean's, teasing him horribly. Cas' hands, meanwhile, are efficiently undoing the buttons of Dean's shirt, pushing aside his tie to get at them. It takes only seconds, and then Cas is moving them both away from the door for just long enough for Dean to lose his jacket, shirt, and even his undershirt. 

Interestingly enough, the red snowflake tie remains in place. 

Once his back is against the door again, Dean returns the favor and starts stripping Cas of his own layers. His fingers are clumsier over the buttons than Cas' had been—probably brought on by the fact that Cas is practically sucking on his nipples, which is just a bit distracting—but he still manages to get the job done, and soon Cas is naked from the waist up. 

Save for his blue tie, that is. If Cas had felt it prudent, Dean can do the same. Besides—it brings out his eyes.

Once both of their torsos are bared, Cas abandons his ministrations on Dean's chest and instead claims his mouth, licking into it with a focus that borders on obsession. 

Or maybe possession. 

Dean likes that one even more. 

"Bed, Cas," he mumbles against the other man's lips, and thankfully, Cas obliges him this time. 

The bed is fucking massive and fancy as hell, but Dean's too preoccupied to pay that any mind. Cas is gentle in setting him on the bed, but then immediately belies that gentleness by practically tearing Dean's slacks off, taking his socks and shoes with them, but leaving his boxers in place.

Cas strips himself completely bare before crawling over Dean to cage him against the bed, finally tugging both of their ties loose and tossing them aside, much to Dean’s surprising disappointment. An instant later Cas’ mouth claims Dean’s roughly. His fingertips, however, are contrastingly soft points of heat where they drag teasingly along the band of his boxers, occasionally dipping lower to ghost over the tent of his erection. Dean arches into the touch, but then Cas’ thighs tighten on either side of Dean’s hips, rendering him immobile.

Which is what makes Dean realize that, if they don’t get down to business soon, he might just lose it and come before they actually get anywhere. Being pinned like this is hitting a few too many of his buttons.

He bucks up sharply under Cas again, partially in a desperate, lust-driven search for friction, and partially to get Cas’ attention. Only the latter part of that works, and Cas extracts his tongue from Dean’s mouth to stare down at him curiously, his breathing ragged and his pupils blown.

Dean’s mouth suddenly feels incredibly dry, and he has to lick his lips before he can plead his case. All he can taste is Cas. The realization only makes him feel even more out of control. “Cas, you have to fuck me. _Please_ , just fuck me already.”

Cas smiles, looking for all the world like a predator. “Is that what you want, Dean?” he asks huskily, lowering his head to graze his teeth along the shell of Dean’s ear. “Do you want me to _fuck you_?”

Dean moans at the sound of those words rolling off of Cas’ tongue. Yes, he wants it. He wants it so badly it feels all-consuming, making it impossible to focus on anything else. He nods jerkily and repeats, “ _Please_.”

Cas hums in his ear, “Since you asked so nicely.” Then he trails his mouth across the bolt of Dean’s jaw, down across his neck and chest and toward the top of his boxers. In a move too quick for Dean to really process, the article is stripped away from Dean’s hips and cast aside.

Cas runs his hands down Dean’s sides and examines him with wide, reverent eyes. “Beautiful,” he breathes, and then before Dean even has time to blush, Cas is flipping him onto his stomach and manhandling his hips up into the air to expose his ass. If anything, the position only makes Dean’s face burn hotter, but the feel of Cas’ hands massaging his cheeks makes it difficult to care enough to be embarrassed.

And when Cas’ tongue sweeps over his hole? Yeah. There’s really no more room for embarrassment here, not even when he realizes he’s moaning like a cheap whore and pressing back insistently against the other man’s tongue. His cock twitches where it hangs heavily between his legs, a bead of precome dripping from the tip.

He was totally right about that stubble feeling amazing, even if he wasn’t quite right about the place where it would be scratching him.

Cas is careful in working his tongue into Dean, using shallow strokes and then deeper plunges, all the while rubbing his thumbs along Dean’s rim to stretch him further. Eventually he slips an index finger in alongside the wet length of his tongue, and after a few experimental thrusts, he hones in on Dean’s prostate and rubs at it mercilessly.

Between that and the tongue still lapping at him, Dean thinks it’s kind of a given that his orgasm barrels into him with the force of a semi-truck. His body goes taut and his cock spills out onto the sheets below him as he spasms around Cas’ tongue and finger—or is it two now?

He thinks he cries out Cas’ name when he comes, but between Cas’ own moan and the ringing in Dean’s ears, he can’t be sure.

Dean is stuck in a post-orgasmic haze, but he’s not so far gone that he doesn’t notice Cas disappearing from the bed for a few seconds. He returns quickly, slotting right back into place behind Dean, this time leaning against the back of Dean’s thighs, pressing his still-hard dick against the cleft of Dean’s ass. He ghosts his hands over the skin of Dean’s back for a moment, murmuring words under his breath that Dean can’t quite make out. Then in an abrupt change of pace, he hooks one of his arms under Dean’s shoulder and the other around his waist and promptly flips him to lay on his back.

Dean blinks at the sudden change in position, but he has to say he appreciates it. Not only was his previous pose beginning to put a strain on his shoulders, but now he can actually see Cas in all his glory. They haven’t even properly fucked yet, but somehow Cas still completely looks like they already have. His eyes are wide and glassy, with hardly a shred of that amazing blue visible around his expanded pupils. His cheeks are ruddy, his hair is even more mussed than before… The list goes on.

Perhaps the most notable of Cas’ features at the moment, however, is the cock that juts up from between his legs. He’s longer than Dean, though not by much, and thicker, as well as uncut. It’s intimidating, while also making Dean’s own dick twitch in a valiant effort at a second wind.

He needs that thing in him _yesterday_.

Thankfully, Cas seems to be on the same page. He spreads Dean’s legs a bit wider and pushes his knees towards his chest which, while incredibly hot, is not a way Dean was meant to bend. He goes to the _gym_ , not yoga. But Cas obviously couldn’t care less, and works him into the position anyway. He leans down and practically thrusts his tongue into Dean’s mouth, ravishing it like he owns it, and while he is distracted, Dean hears the faint but unmistakable sound of a condom packet tearing open, followed by the click of a cap of a bottle of lube.

Dean is already fairly loose from Cas’ thorough tongue-fucking, but the man sinks two lubed fingers into him anyway, just to check his preparedness. Two quickly becomes three, and three makes its way to four, and by that point, Dean is rock hard again and babbling incoherently at all the sensation he is once again being assaulted with.

“Cas, please Cas, just fuck me, please, I need you to fuck me, _Cas I need you_ —”

Cas silences him with another kiss, gentler than the last. “I got you,” he says against Dean’s lips, and then between one heartbeat and the next, Cas’ fingers are gone and his dick is steadily pressing in to take their place.

It seems like eternities pass before Cas finally bottoms out, but logically Dean knows it cannot have been more than a few seconds. Even with all of the preparation Cas had put Dean through, he still feels like he’s too full, with Cas’ cock reaching further into him than he thinks should be possible. It feels so good he thinks he might burst.

After a moment of stillness, he gives his hips an experimental wiggle. Cas gasps slightly, and takes the motion as his cue to begin fucking him in earnest, which he has no trouble doing from there on out. Cas sets a brutal pace, slamming hard into Dean on every thrust and angling himself so that he hits Dean’s prostate almost every other time. Dean clutches at Cas’ shoulders, unable to do anything more than just hang on for the ride at this point.

Not that he’s complaining, whatsoever.

Eventually, Cas’ hips begin to stutter in their rhythm, a telltale sign that he’s nearing his climax. As he falters, he drops a hand to Dean’s cock and starts working it at an equally intense pace as the one he’s fucking with.

Dean had already been riding the edge for some time, so it only takes a few passes of Cas’ fist over his length for him to be hit with his second orgasm of the evening. He can’t help but clench down on the cock inside of him as he rides it out, and that’s all it takes for Cas to fly over the edge as well, bearing down into Dean with a low moan of his name.

Cas stays on top of Dean for a few minutes after, too blissed-out to move, and Dean doesn’t hesitate to allow it. The man just gave him the best lay of his life; this is the least Dean could do. And if Dean’s hand ends up resting at the back of Cas’ head where it’s pressed into the pillow beside him, well. That doesn’t have to mean anything.

He draws the line at actually running his fingers through Cas’ hair, though, despite how strong the urge to give in is. Yes, he really likes Cas and wants to be affectionate towards him, but a brief session of post-coital cuddling after what in all likelihood is a one-night stand is not the place for that.

Cas eventually has to pull out of Dean, which unfortunately puts an end to said cuddling. Dean watches through half-lidded eyes as Cas ties off his condom and carries it over to a trashcan, before disappearing into the bathroom.

Dean sighs. He’s done this enough times in his day to know that that’s his cue to go.

He stands from the bed and rolls his neck, relishing the _pop_ that it earns him. His entire body aches, but in light of recent events, he finds it to be a rather pleasant sensation. He finds his boxers off to the side of the bed, along with his tie. His pants, socks, and shoes and scattered around the foot of the bed, and the rest of his clothes make a trail from the bed to the door, Cas’ things mixed in among them. He leaves Cas’ items where they lie and gathers his own up into a pile on the bed.

Dean doesn’t quite know what to do from there. He’s covered in sweat and lube and come, so he doesn’t really want to put his suit back on. It’s not like he has a lot of options, though, so he uses his boxers to mop up the come, at the very least, and starts to step into his pants without them when Cas’ voice suddenly interrupts him.

“Dean? What are you doing? Are you… leaving?”

Dean looks up at him in surprise. Is this not what Dean was expected to do?

From the expression on Cas’ face—no. It wasn’t.

Cas looks shocked. Sad, even. He’s still naked as the day he was born, but he obviously cleaned himself up some while he was in the bathroom, because he’s nowhere near as filthy as Dean is.

Then he notices the damp washrag in Cas’ hand. A washrag that he couldn’t have been doing anything with other than bringing to Dean.

Dean’s heart twists painfully in his chest. “I, um.” He clears his throat. “Shouldn’t I?”

Cas takes a few slow steps forward, giving Dean the distinct impression that he’s being viewed as a spooked animal. It’s probably not too far off base, really. “You can if you’d like,” Cas says neutrally. “But… You don’t have to.”

Dean swallows hard. “Do you want me to?” he asks. He knows that he would stay, if it were truly up to him, but he has enough experience in business to know that sometimes it’s best to defer to someone higher up the chain of command.

Which Cas is. Not only is he clearly the more dominant of the two of them, but he’s also at the top of the literal chain of command, what with him being the future CEO and all. If Dean leaves, he was just a roll in the hay after a Christmas party. If he doesn’t… Then he’s something to be defined.

Cas stares down at the rag in his hands, fiddling with it absently. He says quietly, “I would like it if you stayed.”

With that one simple sentence, Dean’s worries disappear, and an easy grin stretches across his face. “Then I’ll stay.”

Cas’ head snaps up. “You will?”

“Sure,” Dean says with feigned nonchalance. He gestures toward the bed. “We going to sleep, then?”

Cas seems stunned for a moment, then forms a grin of his own. He approaches Dean with quick steps and passes him the rag, and hesitates only briefly before pecking a chaste kiss to Dean’s cheek. “We can sleep, yes.”

Dean wipes himself off with the rag and they settle into bed, not bothering to put on any clothes before doing so. They lay close together, their knees bumping beneath the covers.

They’ve been in bed for a few moments, the lights off and the room pitch black, before Cas asks into the darkness, “Dean, what are you doing for Christmas?”

Dean had been on the brink of falling asleep, so the question takes him by surprise. It takes him a moment to respond. “Nothing, really. Why do you ask?”

Instead of answering, Cas continues, “Will you be alone? Do you have family?”

“I have family, yeah,” Dean replies, growing more confused by the second. “But I’m seeing them for New Year’s this year, not Christmas. I’ll be alone.”

There’s a beat of silence before Cas speaks again. “Would you like to spend Christmas with me, then?”

Dean can’t see him in the dark, but he whips his head around to stare anyway. “You want me around for Christmas? Seriously?”

He hears Cas’ shrug in the slide of sheets on skin. “Yes. I know we only just met, but I quite like you, Dean. I’m going to be alone myself this year, but if you’d like, perhaps you could join me. We could… have dinner.”

Dean reaches down to pinch himself on the arm, just to ensure he isn’t dreaming this. When nothing changes, he almost wants to laugh. “Yeah, Cas. I think I’d like that.”

“Wonderful,” Cas says back. Dean can hear his grin in his voice. “It’s a date, then.”

“It’s a date,” Dean repeats on a whisper. He still can’t quite believe this is happening.

Of all the ways he expected this evening to go, this is definitely not one of them. But then, he couldn’t have predicted Cas.

Maybe company parties aren’t so bad after all.

He scoots in closer to Cas and drifts off to sleep far easier than he has in months.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr!](http://thursdays-fallen-angel.tumblr.com)


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